


Cool Dorks

by CuddleWolves



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Bondage, Consensual Sex, F/M, Fluff, Humor, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Light Dom/sub, Smut, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 20:12:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17904848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuddleWolves/pseuds/CuddleWolves
Summary: The stars are in position... Even though they're plastic and Maka is the one who keeps moving them to match the constellations.(Please read the tags lmao)





	Cool Dorks

**Author's Note:**

> I recently binge watched Soul Eater and I'm jumping into the fandom head-first with a smutfic. What am I doing with my life. Anywho I fell in love with the SoMa ship, as one does, and this happened. 
> 
> All characters are aged up (aka 18 or older)  
> Viewer discretion is advised as this fic does include (spoiler alert) sex.

"Stay."

All limbs tied to the bed, he has no means of moving, not that he plans on disobeying her, but if he's tempted to, he won't be able to. She'd taken his shirt off, but left his jeans on, before leaving the room to… well, he wasn't really sure why, but he isn't exactly in a state to be questioning his meister.

The room is dimly lit, the only source of light being the moon from outside the window and the traces of Maka glittering about his room. He looks up at his bedroom ceiling. Since they started dating, and she started migrating to his room more and more, she'd been bringing her girly belongings in there. A pink pillow here, a fluffy stuffed animal there. The only thing he found himself growing fond of (not that he'd ever admit it out loud) were her plastic, glow-in-the-dark stars that she stuck to his ceiling. She claims she likes to use them to practice her astronomy studies of constellations, but he knows she's mostly just a sucker for the way they light up the room at night. Dork.

He hears the door squeak. He cranes his neck to see, but it's just out of his peripheral vision. He senses her presence, though. He closes his eyes to listen to her approach instead. Too bad he can't watch her as she walks up to the bed in-- are those heels she's wearing? Okay. So she probably just changed her outfit. No big deal. She hasn't even touched him yet and he's already sweating.

“Soul.” Her melodic voice beckons him to look at her. He opens his eyes and has to blink several times in astonishment. Wow. Normally, he prides himself in his ability to hide his perverted thoughts, having honed the skill especially to avoid Maka chops and rants about her father, but right now, he can't help but stare shamelessly. She's wearing… something even his wet dreams couldn't do justice. She sports her classic red skirt; that's nice and familiar. He was right about the heels. They're simple, black heels followed by tall, tall thigh high stockings that accentuate her legs. His eyes are drawn to the skin between the stockings and her skirt. He momentarily forgets he's producing saliva and almost drools on himself as he eyes her. He wasn't expecting her to wear anything of his, though. Especially not his headband. And it's not even near her head. It's stretched over her chest. He rarely wears it anymore, so he has no qualms about letting her keep it now. Especially if she plans on wearing it like that more often. He growls, suddenly aware of her hands on his skin. It's scorching under her touch. He pants her name. She mewls shyly.

“Do you like it?” Her soft voice lilts, wavering in confidence, but still manages to send shivers down his spine.

“Maka, you look amazing. I didn't think my headband could have any better use than around my head, but I guess I was wrong. It looks way better around your tits than it ever did on me.”

She smiles, bites her lip, and shuffles over to him on all fours until she's straddling him. She leans forward and kisses his nose as thanks. His face warms at the sweet gesture, not expecting it. She's full of surprises today, isn't she. He chuckles.

She finally leans down to slant her mouth over his. He sighs as she introduces her tongue. They've had a lot of practice, having dated for at least three months now, but the novelty of it hasn't faded. It's still exciting, thrilling, to kiss Maka, his beloved meister. His best friend, his roommate, his lover. His crush of six years. Kishin-busting, feisty know-it-all, DWMA's most ambitious student.  Maka freaking Albarn, of all people, is kissing him. It makes him dizzy with joy, but also dizzy with blood loss because arousal is a thing. He's long gotten over the embarrassment of getting a hard-on from making out with Maka. She's the one who gets flustered, as if she really isn't expecting him to be turned on by her tongue in his mouth and her hands in his hair.

She pulls away, and he tries not to be too obvious about how desperately he needs air because honestly, he'd give up breathing if it meant getting to kiss her just a little more. If he passes out, he passes out happy. She tugs at the rope holding his arms to the bedpost, testing its strength.

“Worried I'll run away?” He smirks.

“More like worried you'll chase me when I run away,” She teases, sticking her tongue out at him.

He watches the pink peek out from between her kiss-swollen lips before registering what she said. “Huh? Wait, where are you going?” He winces at the way his voice rises in pitch with panic. Not cool.

“Don't worry. Not far,” She traces a finger down his scar. It sends electric shocks straight down south. How is he supposed to pay attention to a word she says if she keeps distracting him with such tantalizing touches? “I'll be right over there, preparing myself for the fun to come. Okay?”

“Okay,” He says automatically, without thinking. It surprises him how calm he is now, how he actually is okay with whatever she has planned, because whatever it is, he trusts her. He doesn't know what he's gotten himself into, but so far, he's liked it. And he knows that if she senses that he really doesn't like something, she'll stop right away. She's good at reading him, sometimes better at understanding him than he does himself. It's probably something to do with her ability to sense soul wavelengths.

Maka gives him one last parting kiss, though it mostly serves to leave him wanting more, before crawling off the bed entirely.

He already misses her presence, her body heat, feeling chilled by her absence from him. Soul says nothing, though, understanding that she is in charge this time. She is setting the pace, no matter how slow.

She settles into the armchair across from the bed, right within his view. The pillows beneath him give him enough leverage to see her cross her legs. She makes direct eye contact, unwavering, commanding his full attention. He gulps down the build up of saliva in his mouth. Get a hold of yourself, Soul. Drooling is definitely not cool.

Maka slowly, slowly brings a hand to her face, at first as if she's unsure, but when she sees Soul squirm, she becomes more confident, more certain. She holds back a smile as she brings the hand down, down, down, tracing her jaw, her pulse point, her neck. Her breath hitches, and Soul holds his to keep himself from groaning. That's exactly how he likes to kiss her, the route he takes as he leaves behind a trail of hickies. He knows she's doing this on purpose, of course she is; that's the point.

“Oh, Soul.” Oh, _death_. He shivers.

“Maka,” He whines, pulling at his restraints. “C'mon, get over here.”

She shakes her head, pigtails swinging, hand continuing its path, across her dainty collar bones, down to his headband. The hand disappears beneath the fabric. He's seen her boobs before, so many times he's practically ingrained them into his memory. But he's feeling greedy right now because she's _right there_ , within _reach_ , and that dumb headband isn't moving. It fits her so well he's almost regretting letting her wear it. Almost.

She sighs, and typically it's a delightful sound, but it's teasing torture to his ears right now. He's painfully hard, though he could care less about that, considering he's craving to touch her more than anything. He wants to watch her sigh at his hands, because of him, because she needs him. Doesn't she need him? He likes feeling needed. Or at least wanted.

“Mmm. I wish this was your hand,” She purrs.

“I… I can make that happen,” He offers, trying to sound cool, collected, but it comes out more desperate than he'd intended.

She ignores his plea, brings another hand under the headband, and it's enough to make it slide askew. She's tugging and twisting at her nipples, biting her lip out of habit. Her breathing is slightly irregular, though it does not compare to that of Soul's thundering heartbeat. He's eminently trying to resist the urge to tug at the ropes, not wanting to give off a sign of weakness.

Maka isn't really paying attention to him anymore, though. She's in her own blissful world, cast away in some far-off fantasy. Hopefully involving Soul. His heart tugs at the thought, but he doesn't dwell on it. He trusts her. She'd never cheat, even in her mind. Cool partners don't cheat, after all.

She opens her eyes to gaze at him, though only half-lidded. She winks. How can something so dorky be so hot? He watches her like a predator watches its prey's every movement. One of her hands slides down, into her skirt, and he blushes because he can _hear_ how wet she is as she touches herself. He might actually blow his load in his pants if she keeps this up.

“Souuul,” She keens, hips gyrating against her hand.

“Just-- Maka, _please_ , let me help you.” He's given up on trying to sound cool at this point. If begging is what it'll take, then, by all means, he'll resort to begging.

“Your fingers feel better than mine,” She voices thoughtfully, as if contemplating something.

Suddenly, she's off the chair, standing by the bed, _so close_ to him. She eases herself on top of him, finally, and he sighs contentedly. Yessss.

She starts to kiss him again. He is happy to oblige, happy to be of assistance to his pretty meister. She giggles at his dopey, starstruck expression.

The only problem is, she keeps moving away as she kisses him, and it's starting to get frustrating. He growls. He wants to take her soft face in his hands, wrap an arm around her waist and pull her closer to him, but he _can't_.

Maka breaks the kiss to ask him what's wrong. She swipes her thumb over the crease between his brows.

His rumbling voice comes out muffled and trails off. “I wanna touch you. Wanna hold you. Keep you here with me… so you can't run away.” He pouts. It's really cute and Maka can't resist squeezing him with a hug. In the process, though, her hips meet his and they both let out fragmented gasps.

“That was supposed to be an innocent hug, I swear.” Maka lifts her body off him slightly.

Soul groans and gives her a look of disbelief. “The temptress doth protest too much, methinks.”

“That's not the saying.”

“I know that's not the saying, braniac.”

She grinds herself onto his arousal again, this time with more vigor, causing him to squawk. She lets out a genuine laugh at his expression. Maka 1, Soul 0.

“ _That one_ was purposeful,” He grumbles.

She smiles down at him and decides to show a little mercy. She wriggles down his torso until she meets his pants. A tent greets her with a twitch. Soul watches her, wide-eyed as she unbuttons his jeans and tugs his zipper down. He can't really help her much, besides angling his hips slightly to get the pants off.

He is aching for her touch. Nothing else seems to matter at this moment besides Maka, Maka, Maka. She only rubs him through his boxers but it still feels good, still provides relief. He pants, chest heaving feverishly. She sidles up to dry hump him again, and they both moan distinctly, one high and free, the other low and restrained.

Soul starts to panic, feeling close. He doesn't want to let go while he's still in his boxers. He tries to say something, but all that comes out is a whimper. Not trusting his voice, he gives Maka his best puppy eyes, praying she'll relent her (torture) foreplay.

Maka, feeling just as desperate, caves and tugs down his boxers and provides them both with immense satisfaction as she sinks down onto him. Maka comes apart almost immediately, voicing her pleasure loudly to Soul's gratification. After a few more thrusts, he grunts, shudders, and releases.

They're both catching their breaths now. Soul's eyes are unfocused, still recovering from an intense orgasm. Maka unties his bonds and soothes the reddened skin. Soul uses the last little bit of energy left in him to wrap her in an embrace.

“Sorry.” She softly kisses the marks on his wrists. “The rope must've been pretty uncomfortable. I understand if you don't wanna--”

“That was the best sex we've ever had. And I didn't even touch you!” Soul exclaims.

“You liked it?”

“Of course I liked it. Maka, that was awesome. Let's do it again.”

“Okay, okay,” She says through a smile. “Maybe not right this minute, though. And let's use a softer material next time.”

“Can I tie you up, too?”

“Sure, Soul.”

They cuddle up close, sore limbs tangled, breaths mingled, drifting off.

“...Maka?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too, dork.”

“ _You're_ the dork. I'm the cool one.”

“Okay, Soul. Whatever you say.”

  


**Author's Note:**

> I watched [this](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ik4B0TWvrow) video days ago and I'm still laughing.


End file.
